The next day the woodman came with his two sons, a team of horses, and ropes to drag the trees away. But there was not one to be seen! After wondering and sitting under an oak for an hour, the woodman again went to work with his axe and cut down more young elm trees. He sent one son back with the horses, as they were needed for the plow.
In the evening the woodman went away as before, leaving the trees, and thinking no one would steal them a second time. But at night my father went as before and threw them all into the river. In the morning the woodman came again with the team. ‘What!’ cried he, ‘All gone again!—it must be the work of some fairy! Thieves could never carry away clean out of sight all those heavy young trees,—unless, indeed, it were the Forty Thieves, for it would need as many.’
Again the woodman cut down the trees and now there was not an elm left standing. He went away in the evening, as before, leaving the trees upon the ground. My father was sallying out to carry them off in the same way as before when my mother said, ‘Do not go, Benjamin (we always spoke in Bear language, you know, and not as I talk to you), do not go to-night, Benjamin, I beg you!’
‘Why, that unfeeling rascal has cut down all my young elms and the next thing you know he will cut down my oaks. I will not endure it,’ said my father angrily.
‘But this is by no means certain,’ reasoned my mother. ‘He seems to want only the elms. And at the worst we could find another cave with oaks near it.’
‘But not with oaks and a nice river, too!’ said my father.
‘Then the child (meaning me) and I must go with you and help to do it as quickly as possible. After it is done we will go and sleep for a few nights in the forest over the northern hills, for my mind is very uneasy about matters,’ said my mother.
My father laughed and said ‘GOOFF-ZUGDT,’ which, in Bear language, means ‘Nonsense!’
So we all went out of the cave and worked away at a great rate. My father and mother carried the largest of the young trees, and I such of the smallest as my tender years would allow. By midnight we had just finished and my father was carrying the last tree, when suddenly a shout was heard and we saw a flash of torches! The trees had been seen floating downstream, by some men who were coming to watch for the thieves, or to see if it was the work of fairies.
‘Cross the stream, higher up, and run for the northern hills,’ shouted my mother. At the same time she seized me by one ear in her mouth and lugged me along till we came to the river bank. Instantly she soused me into the water. When I came to the surface, I instantly felt my ear again in my mother’s warm mouth, and we soon landed on the other side. My father was not with us. We took it for granted that he had run in some other direction, and would rejoin us shortly. The shouts, however, followed us and so did the men with torches. My mother never once looked behind, but ran, lugging me along by one ear, through fields and woods, up hill and down dale. At last she laid me on some warm leaves under thick bushes. But my father did not join us. We never saw him again. He was captured and taken to the village.